The Fountain of Unlikely Chance
by Michael Khale
Summary: Oh, what wacky hi-jinks will ensue when you have a dwarf who can heal by drinking alcohol...
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

Fistbeard Beardfist leaned back against a barrel of his homemade whiskey and stroked his long beard in contentment. The mountain was perfectly situated for brewing alcohol; there were clear streams of fresh spring water from the mountaintops, abundant oak forests below, and several human farming settlements whose main product was various types of grains. The forest elves were something of a nuisance, but the thin mountain air generally prevented them from coming up to bother him about his distillery.

"You know, you're here to guard this cave entrance so people don't find their way into the Ancestral Durance, not get blindingly drunk and beat up mountain orcs every other day."

No such luck today, it seemed. The form of the Reina Dawntracker strode into the cavern entrance and crushed his hopes of a peaceful afternoon.

"If this is about that avalanche," Fistbeard waved dismissively, "Thain Wulfgar probably set it off with a stray thunder-hammer."

"And what was he throwing the thunder-hammer at, if I may ask?" Reina asked, with a tone in her voice as pointed as her ears.

"I'm sorry, I think my memories of the event have suddenly been obscured due to the fact that I was very drunk at the time. Will that be all?"

"Unfortunately not." She drew a letter from the woven pouch on her belt and handed it to him. "It seems your services as a guide have been requested. The Guild of Essential Inscriptions wants you to sneak a party into the Ethosas monastery."

"Guild mages and Hextorites? Can I assume that the wizards have some sort of high priority mission, if they're calling in a favor from the Guardians of the Green?"

"Something about the monks activating an ancient relic; the mages were a little vague on some of the details since they just want us to infiltrate a small group."

"And you are asking me, despite the fact that I'm only an honorary Fist of the Forest? I've never felt so honored and expendable in my life."

"There's no use in arguing, Fistbeard." Reina drew another letter out of her pouch. "I didn't want to do this, but I thought you might be a little obstinate and asked Deepwarden Goldcutter for some support."

Fistbeard snatched the second letter, tore it open, and glanced over the single line it contained.

"Classic," he groaned.

"What did it say?"

"Do it, you anvil-dropping pansy. Signed, Rhes Goldcutter."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Three brass crowns bought a pint of beer at The Green Casque, but it came in a dirty mug and tasted like watered down camel urine. Fistbeard set the liquid disappointment down next to a plate of tasteless chicken and a loaf of stale, soggy bread with a decent helping of mold on it. Not for the first time, he wondered why the guild mage had chosen such a 'colorful' meeting place when any wizard worthy of the title would be able to afford better quarters.

He was not the only one who did not enjoy the food; a ferociously scarred half-orc several tables over smashed his mug against the table and drunkenly roared that "This food tastes like cardboard, the wine could be vinegar, and the barmaids are uglier than Moradin's altar boys."

"Not like you're the brightest vein of silver in the mine either," Fistbeard found himself shouting back as he drew himself up to his full and impressive height of something under five feet.

"And just what are you going to do about it, little man?" The half-orc yelled back, shoving his table aside and leaping to his feet. The other patrons scattered and the barkeeper suddenly found his presence needed in the back room, but Fistbeard planted himself firmly on the ground and prepared to give a retort when he felt a cold hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure _master dwarf _meant that the barmaids are too clean shaven for that," a snide voice interrupted. Fistbeard looked up and saw that a pale human with burning red eyes had appeared next to him. "Please return to enjoying your meal."

"What are you going to do about it if I don't?" The drunk snarled menacingly, flexing his muscles so hard that he threatened to burst his jerkin.

"Then I am afraid that I will be forced to ask you again," the stranger responded casually, shrugging his shoulders. There was a gentle metallic rustling sound as he did so, hinting at a coat of chain mail underneath his clothing. "_Very_ politely."

The half-orc glowered at them for a moment before sitting down at someone else's table, viciously tearing into the previous occupant's bread as if it had grievously offended him.

"If you'll come with me, _master dwarf_, I think it's time we got down to business," the sinister man suggested, as he headed for the staircase. "Don't forget to leave a tip, the barmaids certainly aren't supporting themselves though other means."

* * *

The man did not talk as he led Fistbeard up to the second story, nor was Fistbeard not inclined to make conversation. Men like him were not the type dwarfs typically cared to associate with for pleasure. Fistbeard followed at a distance, and watched as the human knocked twice on the door to room 208.

"Is that you, Iago?" Someone who sounded, and smelled, suspiciously like a kobold yapped from inside as the door opened a crack for visual inspection.

"No, 'tis the Nightlord, Bringer of Demise and Taxes," Iago replied dryly, shoving open the door and sweeping the small creature aside. "This way, _master dwarf_."

Fistbeard stepped in cautiously; kobolds were not high on his list of favored beings either. Iago took up a position by the room's sole window and the kobold backed up a few feet unsure of how to react to a dwarf. A swarthy woman in the robes of a desert mage rose from the bed to greet him. ""It is an honor to meet you, master Beardfist. I am Zahrah Isa, Guildmage of the Guild of Essential Inscriptions. This is my retinue; Iago, my bodyguard, and Kotor, a professional thief."

"I've been exiled from all of the goblin khanates multiple times, under several different names." Kotor added proudly, wagging his tail.

"Indeed. As I was saying, it is a privilege to work with you on this; I believe you were specifically requested by my superiors for this assignment. I heard that they were impressed by your performance in the Dragon of the Witchwood incident."

"Oh that?" Fistbeard laughed. "Moradin's beard, you knock out one dragon with your facial hair and everyone thinks you're a hero. Don't get me wrong: I'm flattered that people still remember me for that, but I'm afraid the elves have been exaggerating my abilities. I'm just like any other dwarf who has a fondness for beer and a mastery of beard based combat."

Zahrah smiled politely while Kotor listened with rapt attention. Iago stood in a corner and made a soft noise in his throat that carried overtones of skepticism and contempt.

"Then I'm sure you'll perform admirably." Zahrah strode over to the small table near the room's sole window and pulled out a chair for Fistbeard. "Please sit, we should brief you on the latest information about this mission."

As he sat down, Iago unfurled a map and spread it out on the table, weighing it down with a variety of weaponry.

"Now, the monastery Ethosas and its lands are autonomous, though it lies just within the borders of its patron, the Duchy of Cinnibar." Zahrah explained, tracing magical lines on the relevant areas of the map.

"Don't you mean Cinnabar?"

"The Duke is evil _and_ an idiot. As I was saying, its location means that we can infiltrate without technically provoking a diplomatic incident. Teleportation is prevented by a wild magic zone, and aerial insertion is inadvisable due to frequent violent lightening storms."

"They certainly didn't build that monastery for comfort," Fistbeard noted, as the lines on the map formed symbols to indicate the various hazards in the area.

"Quite. As I was saying, the only route left to us is through the mountains. That's where you come in; since the rest of us are not what you'd typically call 'outdoors types', it will be your job to take us in."

"I'm sure that _master dwarf_ could have guessed that while passed out in a pool of his own vomit," Iago interrupted impatiently. "Let's not further insult his intelligence and get to the point, shall we?"

Fistbeard bristled, but the look from Zahrah was chilling.

"Iago, I think you need to buy Kotor a drink downstairs. Now." Zahrah glared.

Iago gave a mocking salute, clicked his heels, and disappeared in a puff of sulfur and brimstone. Kotor gathered Iago's weapons and marched out cheerfully, licking his lips in anticipation.

"My apologies - he can be hard to work with at times, but I assure you that Iago is quite competent in his field of expertise, enough to make up for his pervasive 'motiveless malignity'."

"It's nothing," Fistbeard waved. "Better to build alliances, than grudges. Although I do think we could stand to skip forward a bit: what is the expected force disposition, what is your window of opportunity, and do you want to go above or below ground?"

"Straight to business, I see," Zahrah nodded approvingly. "Not the least bit curious about what we're trying to investigate?"

"Sticking your beard into places it doesn't belong is a good way to lose facial hair, as far as I'm concerned. Now, about those questions?"

Zahrah conjured up another scroll and laid it in front of them.

"As far as we could ascertain, there are patrols on most of the mountain paths, above and below ground. However, the Hextorites are not nearly as adept at underground operations as they are on land, so I was considering that approach. Guarding the passages from the Underdark seems to be a relatively low priority for them, as most of their enemies are as afraid of it as they are. I'd estimate light resistance if we went through that path."

"Seems reasonable. When do you want to be there?"

"While there's no specific time limit on this mission, the Guild would appreciate a swift resolution of the issue. I was thinking perhaps a week, if that is enough time to handle everything properly."

"Easily. I took part in the tunnel fighting around there at the battle of Mine 56 - it's the one you have marked in yellow - when I first joined the militia, and got promoted to Deepwarden Initiate because of it. Sneaking in that way will be like flattening a troll with hammer. If we gathered your team, we could start off right now." Fistbeard offered enthusiastically. "Probably get there sooner, too."

"I'm afraid not all of us are as energetic as you are, master Fistbeard," Zahrah declined politely. "Though we should probably get the others back before they burn down the inn."

Fistbeard got the vague feeling that Zahrah was speaking more out of experience than in jest


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The little ball flitted to and fro between the three cups that the female halfling manipulated. Kotor's eyes tracked it relentlessly, fully intent on continuing his winning streak at the game. So far, he had only lost twice at the beginning, but managed to guess the last 10 rounds correctly, even catching the girl when she managed to sleight the ball into the palm of her hand.

"Ok, this is getting ridiculous," she sighed in frustration, as he picked the winning cup again. "You're bleeding me dry, you know that?"

"Well, I'm sure an arrangement could be made," Kotor suggested slyly, his gaze lingering on what were certainly not her eyes.

"I think not," she refused dryly. "It's a personal policy of mine to not sleep with monotremes."

"Are you sure?" He persisted. "It's dragonwrought, you know."

"Alright, that's enough," Iago snapped. "We don't need to hear about how dragons buggered your ancestors any more. Give her back the money and let's get out of here. "

"No, no... that's quite alright.... I'll be leaving now." The halfling stuttered, gathering up her cups and leaving the room with indecent haste. Iago had a bad feeling; it was suddenly very quiet in the room, as if all the other patrons had left. He caught Kotor's eyes and they slowly turned around.

"You're not very good bodyguards, if you're not with her," an enlarged human in monk's robes stated through a thick ninja mask as he and three other monks surrounded them. "But that is the least of your problems now. I am Giamoco of the order of Ethosas, and you are now my prisoners."

"How'd you get in here?" Iago asked, squinting at the door.

"Perhaps you did not hear me clearly the first time." Giamoco lifted his mask so he could speak more audibly. "I said -"

"I know bleeding well what you said, I just don't care. How'd you get in here when the door is barely large enough for my kobold friend to squeeze in?"

"I really don't see how that matters when -"

"It matters because you could be an alcoholic hallucination, and that's important when I'm deciding whether or not to take you seriously."

"You don't get hallucinations when you're drunk," Kotor pointed out.

"Shut up." Giamoco yelled, exasperated with the two. "As I was saying -"

"Hey! I didn't join Kobolds Against Unequal Treatment just to be told to shut up every time someone didn't like what I was saying!"

"Shut up," Iago ordered. "And as _I_ was saying, I have to decide whether or not to take you seriously because you don't seem like a credible villain. Your first mistake was giving me your name, which could be used against you in a number of ways both mundane and magical, thus leading me to suspect that you are either not a professional, an idiot, or a byproduct of the fine Burgundy in my glass here."

"Hey! You keep my competence out of this! I don't go around telling you how to do your job, do I?"

"Wasn't the first thing you said something about us not being good at body guarding?" Iago pointed out.

"That's it, I was going to take you in alive but I guess we have the Speak with Dead spell for a reason," Giamoco snarled, cracking his knuckles.

"You sure you want to go down that road?" Kotor asked, drawing a viciously serrated dagger. "When I was younger, I did my apprenticeship with my clan, in the service of a red dragon. I was given this for my service, a dagger forged from the fires of the dragon's mighty breath. That alone would normally make you unworthy of even _touching_ it, but I'll make an exception for the business end."

The monks hesitated, as Iago dropped his hands and went for his belt.

"Hey! That's mine!" He shouted in outrage.

"Get them!" Giamoco ordered, launching himself forward at the pair.

* * *

"Nyrr Doch!"

Certain Dwarven phrases are well known to due to the long history of Dwarfs becoming involved in worldly conflicts. This one was particularly infamous as it had been used throughout all of dwarven history; literally translated, it meant "Taste ax!"

Unfortunately, Fistbeard did not have an ax on him at the time; however, his expertise at traditional dwarven hand to hand combat served as an adequate substitute. Giamoco found himself on the receiving end of a vicious blow to the back of the knee as his men leapt forward, leaving him alone with the dwarf. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Kotor suddenly disappeared in a cloud of darkness while Iago rose up in the air, summoned a white hot glaive of eldritch energy and lashed out at the two monks within his reach.

Giamoco rolled away and quickly leaped back to his feet as Fistbeard took up a well grounded defensive position within his reach.

"Ah, I see that the dwarf has joined us. Very well, know that I, Giamoco of Ethosas, have never shied away from com-"

The rest of his sentence was cut short as Fistbeard closed the distance between the two and landed a solid blow to Giamoco's sternum.

"Don't talk when you're fighting." Fistbeard punctuated the unintentionally ironic sentence by breaking an ale mug over Giamoco's head. Giamoco reeled back from the blow, landed against a heavy table in the middle of the room, and ducked to avoid a flying kick from Fistbeard. As Fistbeard turned around, Giamoco quickly upturned the table and used it as a makeshift shield.

"You're insolence is making me angry," Giamoco warned, drawing out a wand. "YOU WON'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY!"

A surge of divine energy rushed through his being as Giamoco activated the wand, causing his skin to harden and muscles to bulge. Giamoco lifted the table, much to Fistbeard's surprise, and clubbed him with it. Fistbeard landed in a stack of chairs near the entrance, and barely managed to scramble out of the wreckage in time to avoid the heavy table being thrown at him. The enlarged monk closed in on Fistbeard, but before he could land a blow, he gave a painful yell and whirled around to see Kotor with a bloody dagger.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd need those being a monk and all," Kotor grinned, as he dodged a blow and escaped under Giamoco's legs, taking another swipe at Giamoco's Pearls of Power in the process. Fistbeard rolled away and climbed on the bar and to launch himself through the air at Giamoco, who was too preoccupied to notice the elbow headed at his face until it impacted. Unfortunately, Fistbeard's lack of aerial movement meant that he had no way of preventing himself from colliding with Iago, causing Iago's attacks to miss wildly and hit an oil lamp by mistake. Oil spilled out from the broken lamp and quickly set fire to the walls.

"Fools! Not only has your blundering destroyed this building, but you were unable to protect your mage as well! Even as we speak, she is being abducted by my men while you are all down here!" Giamoco gloated, drawing out yet another wand. Fistbeard, Iago, and Kotor stopped fighting as the sound of a viscous struggle on the second story could be heard through the floor. The roof shook as something heavy pounded into it, and then broke as a monk plummeted through the woodwork followed by the drunk half- orc from earlier who landed feet first on his chest.

"When a lady says no," the half-orc bellowed into the monk's face, "She means no!"

He then picked the man up and flung him into the shelves of ale behind the bar. Fistbeard took this as a sign to resume fighting and promptly kicked the closest monk in the shins.

"You will all pay for this insolence!" Giamoco threatened as the half-orc body-slammed another monk through a window. He pointed a wand at Fistbeard and uttered the activation phrase. "Witness your doom!"

The wand gave a spurt of magical light but failed to produce any other noticeable effect. Giamoco cursed and smacked it against the wall.

"Infinite tyrannies of Hextor, why won't you work?"

"Care to let me try?" Iago offered, as he took his eldritch glaive and swept it across Giamoco's chest. He closed in intent on landing a killing blow, but Giamoco twisted away at the last moment, ducked under Iago's attack, and landed a solid blow to Iago's solar plexus.

"Not today," Giamoco laughed, as he tumbled away and positioned himself right under the hole in the roof. "Masked Omega Nexus Knights, assemble!"

The others immediately withdrew from combat and struck ridiculous poises next to their leader as a monk carrying the unconscious figure of Zahrah landed in the middle of the group next to Giamoco. Iago's eyes widened as both he and Fistbeard charged intent on rescuing Zahrah, but Giamoco and his entire group winked out of existence before they could reach her.

"Hellfire and damnation!" Iago swore, as he teleported away in pursuit, leaving Fistbeard, Kotor, and the half-orc to put out the fire.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Third scion of Vaul, that was a good fight!" The half-orc leaned against the bar as the smoke slowly filtered out of the inn. He looked much more sober now than he had half an hour ago, and seemed in a better mood. "Really gets the blood flowing."

"Perhaps introductions are in order, then? I'm Fistbeard Beardfist, of the Iron Father's clan. You saw Iago the... warlock I believe, and Kotor, the kobold thief." Fistbeard spoke cautiously, hoping that there were no hard feelings over the brief altercation earlier. It seemed that the half-orc had put the incident behind him, and reciprocated by introducing himself to Fistbeard.

"I am Krag, son of Kor, of the Bonesplitter clan of the Bloodfist tribe." The half-orc stated proudly.

"Bloodfist? You're a little far north for one of the Firstborn, aren't you?" Fistbeard asked helped himself to one of the few intact bottles of wine to soothe his injuries, and offered one to Krag. "I thought you people stayed in the Southern Wastes."

"Thought I'd get away from the tribe for a bit," Krag grunted, pulling the cork out with his teeth. "Parents want me to get married, and half the tribe sent in matchmakers. I don't want to get hitched yet so I thought I'd go on a walkabout and think it over."

"And you came to this?" Fistbeard gestured at the inn.

"Eh, we're not really welcome other places. Don't think it would have gone over well if I'd wandered over to the market district or anything."

"Well, your appearance was certainly appreciated," Fistbeard said, splashing the wine dregs on a smoldering log that threatened to liven up again.

"Yeah, uh, sorry about getting angry earlier. It kinda bothers me I have to stay in crappy places like this." Krag looked vaguely embarrassed as he apologized. "Not that I'll be staying here much longer..."

They both looked up at the hole Krag had made, from which they could see up into the second floor corridor and into several of the rooms.

"Why'd you put a man through the floor anyways?" Fistbeard asked.

"Saw him trying to kidnap a woman," Krag explained. "He seemed like he could use a beating, so I gave it to him. I should have kept an eye out for anyone going back up though..."

"Well, there were a lot of the buggers. Besides, they're not in the clear yet if Iago's as good as he seems."

"Clearly, he isn't," Iago snapped as he strode into the inn. "It appears that monks can teleport far longer distances than I. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to pack."

He grabbed Fistbeard's bottle of wine and stormed up to the second floor.

"Ok, now what?" Krag asked. "Will the kobold do something?"

"Probably not. I guess we can officially declare that there is a problem now." Fistbeard drummed his fingers on the bar top as he contemplated what to do. "I think I'll talk to Iago and see if I can help. Would you mind explaining this to the town guard if they come by?"

"Sure thing. Good luck." Krag raised the wine bottle high as Fistbeard followed Iago upstairs for the second time that evening.

* * *

Fistbeard knocked on the door. No one responded. Fistbeard knocked again. There was still no response. Frustrated, he kicked down the door and entered the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Iago curtsied as he threw a haversack at Kotor. "We were just about to leave."

"You're just going to abandon her? What about your duty as her bodyguard?"

"If I gave the impression that I was going to run off like some beaten kobold with its tail between its legs, I must apologies profusely." Iago clarified, ignoring Kotor's indignant protest. "When I said leave, I meant 'chase to the ends of the earth'. And then brutally murder."

"Well, that's good to know. When were you going to tell me?"

"I wasn't. This isn't exactly your concern, is it? We won't be needing your services any longer."

"Bollocks." Fistbeard pounded the wall with his fist. "How are you going to get in?"

"We'll manage. What we can't manage is having a fucking new guy who will only disrupt group cohesion and trip us up when we need to coordinate operations. This is none of your business and I fail to see why you should get involved. Bugger off and get buggered."

"I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy to get rid of me," Fistbeard smirked, throwing a small pouch onto the table. It jingled when it hit the table and sounded suspiciously like coin. "I've already been paid."

The building shook as Iago made several lengthy and unflattering remarks about Fistbeard's lineage. With all the abuse the inn had been through that night, it was a wonder that the structure remained standing when the tirade finally ended. Fistbeard and Kotor looked up from their impromptu poker game as Iago finished and threw himself on the bed in frustration.

"Pardon me," Krag apologized, poking his head through the doorway, "But I couldn't help overhearing you and wanted to ask if you wanted help rescuing your woman."

"She's not my woman." Iago replied, in a much softer tone now that his voice had gone hoarse. "And no. This isn't a damn party."

"I have experience, if that helps." Krag offered persistently. "I graduated with honors in advanced combat from the Academy of Vaul, class of '56. Trained at the Temple of the Spirit Lion and the Wolf Aspect Shrine before that. I am also a Senior Headbasher of the Dungeoncrasher's Guild."

He pulled out a diploma, two crudely carved totems, and his membership card as evidence, setting them down on Fistbeard's poker chips for inspection.

"Besides, you saw how I handled those guys."

"Vecna's balls," Iago moaned, attempting to smother himself with a pillow. "How do I get rid of you people?


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Fire?" Iago laughed in scorn. "Fire is a low temperature phenomenon where energy released by the breaking of chemical bonds heats a gas. I use _Hellfire_, drawn from the deepest depths of the Nine Hells; a high energy plasma that carries far more heat than mere _fire_, burning hot enough to sear through _anything you can imagine_."

"I'm not sure I got all of that," Fistbeard confessed, "But it sounds handy."

"I _didn't_ get all of that," Krag admitted. "And it still sounded good."

"Just concentrate on your climbing," Kotor advised, as the three of them scaled their way up a cliff while Iago floated in the air behind them like some sort of overgrown bat, occasionally creating footholds when the rock face was too flat to establish a grip.

Iago may not have wanted anyone else participating in the rescue, but Kotor felt that there was such a thing as strength in numbers. It did not take Iago long to realize that he would either have to do it alone or work with Fistbeard and Krag, and he grudgingly agreed to have them on the team.

The group - Iago shot down any attempt at naming the team with characteristic venom - set out immediately after passing the bill for damages onto the Guild of Essential Inscriptions and found itself at the foot of the Cinnibar Mountains in two day's time. The closest entrance to the desired section of the Underdark was a ventilation shaft for an old mine, located 300 feet above the ground. They were forced them to climb up to reach it and endure with Iago's disbelief that none of them was capable of flying.

"What respectable adventurer doesn't have a means of flight?" He yelled down as he carved a few more footholds for the others.

"There's no need to look down on us because we can't fly," Fistbeard punned. "Some people prefer having their feet on the ground, as Moradin intended."

"I get nauseous," Krag admitted. "Though riding flying beasts isn't a problem."

"I can use magic to fly actually," Kotor said, "But I prefer to save what little magic I have for special occasions, and it wouldn't get either of you two up any quicker anyways."

"Well, thankfully we're now close enough that I don't have to put up with your climbing any more," Iago announced, tucking Kotor under one arm while grabbing onto Fistbeard and Krag. One invocation later, they found themselves standing on the edge of the cliff fifty feet above their previous position and staring into a tunnel entrance.

"Not that I'm unhappy, but you could have warned me." Fistbeard shook his head as he tried to clear a persistent ringing sound from his ears. "Teleportation has never agreed with me."

"You'll get used to it, or knowing you, get drunk." Iago dismissed. "Feel free to break out the alcohol, it actually does help with the disorientation for some strange reason."

"Huzzah!" Fistbeard pulled out a flask and drained it in one go. "To success!"

"Got any more of that?" Krag asked, as he smelt the strong liquor. Fistbeard pulled a small keg out of his Bag of Holding and tossed it to him.

"One of the blessings of having a private magical spring is that you can get some really good brewing done with the water."

Iago shook his head at Krag opened the keg and drank his fill. This was most definitely not the time to start drinking. Determined to do something useful, Iago flew over to the tunnel entrance and took a look inside. His darkvision only extended sixty feet into the black, but it seemed reasonably safe; there were, at least, no tracks on the ground indicating recent activity in the tunnel.

"You'll want to look up as well."

Iago looked over his shoulder and saw Fistbeard pointing at the ceiling. There were regular scrapes along the tunnel's ceiling, as if something large and heavy had passed by recently.

"That's a pretty big spider, eh?" Fistbeard laughed. "Remember, this is the Underdark we're talking about. You humans grew up in places with a sky and an insufficient amount of areal predators, so the habit of scanning above you probably hasn't been drilled into your head, but in the Underdark an attack can come from any direction. You have to look everywhere or else you'll end up Dryder fodder."

"Would you care to take the lead then, master dwarf?" Iago offered with somewhat less irritation in his voice than usual.

"I figure it's what I'm being paid for," Fistbeard agreed. "I'll take point. Kotor will be second, and Krag can be our vanguard. Everyone take a good look at your surroundings and don't forget to use all your senses; trouble in the Underdark is often just seventy feet away."

"So how do we fly?" Krag asked, after an hour's worth of monotonous descent.

"Pardon?" Iago asked, turning backwards to face the barbarian.

"I asked, how can we fly?" Krag repeated. "I don't know much magic, so I can't."

"There's magic items for that. Boots of Flying, Wings of Flying... Celestial Armor will let you fly once a day for about five minutes. If you don't get sick when riding something, you could get a Figurine of Power; the Bronze Griffon can be activated twice a week for six hours at a time. None of it's cheap, but flying's well worth it if you need to get to hard to reach places or engage in aerial combat."

"Stop talking!" Kotor whispered back at them. "You're giving away our position!"

An intolerable silence followed them for the next few miles, until Fistbeard signaled for them to stop and have a rest. The team gathered in a small alcove in the main tunnel and broke out their rations. Iago remained apart from the group, vigilantly watching their surroundings.

"Sure you aren't hungry?" Krag asked, as he broke apart a loaf of hard bread.

"Not really. I'm pretty much geared for not sleeping, eating, or resting, not even to replenish my magic. A Ring of Sustenance combined with an eternal wand of Lesser Restoration does wonders."

"Impressive." Krag turned his attention to the rest of the group and gnawed on his bread. Figuring that it was up to him to relieve the boredom, he politely asked Kotor of the history of his people.

Kotor looked very pleased at the question.

"Not many have asked," he explained, "but our lineage has had its moments. My tribe began as servants of the dragons, descended from the great red dragon Ntharuri, Scourge of the Eight Continents, Defiler of Bones, Devourer of Souls. He is, thankfully, dead now, but we continue in our tradition of service and devotion to dragonkind. I can't say it's been pleasant, but it's kept the tribe alive and protected from a lot of the threats that crop up in the world."

"How about you, Fistbeard?" Krag asked, after Kotor finished.

Fistbeard stroked his beard as he composed a reply. Iago glared at them, wondering when they would shut up.

"I'm a member of the Iron Fathers clan. We're one of the oldest of clans hailing from the Ancestral Durance, the place where Moradin created the first dwarves. For generations, we have been among the best warriors, blacksmiths, and brewers in the city-state of Harur. It's even in our coat of arms: Honor, Steel, and Ale."

Fistbeard parted his beard to show an amulet around his neck, which had the engraving of a hand holding a mace with runes surrounding the perimeter. Krag nodded in approval as he saw Fistbeard's coat of arms for himself. His companions were evidently quite distinguished in their own fields.

"An honorable history. Shall I tell of my own?"

"Fair's fair," said Fistbeard.

"The full tale of the origins of the Bloodfist Clan would take many weeks to tell, but I can give you a short version." Krag emptied his wineskin and sat cross legged in front of the group. "When Vaul's third son was exiled and stripped of his name for dishonoring his father, he was sent to wander the world in until he had restored his honor. Once his tribe learned of this, they vowed never to rest until their chieftain was allowed to return, and we've been nomadic ever since, running around and doing heroics to help the third son earn his forgiveness."

There was an appreciative silence after Krag finished his tale. Iago looked bored and started leafing through the maps again.

"What about you, eh?" Krag prodded, hoping to learn something about the vitriolic bodyguard.

"No idea." Iago answered curtly, not looking up.

"What, really?" Krag raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Surely you must have some idea of your past, your heritage?

"My parents sold their souls and mine to a devil so that they would be in his favor. I killed them, burned down their blasphemous shrine, and ran away. So no, I don't know. Now sod off, I'm trying to establish a point of ingress for a party of four."

Iago, for one, greatly appreciated the awkward silence that followed.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Fistbeard watched Iago study intelligence reports and maps for hours while the others rested. The man was tirelessly going over various routes in and out of the monastery, though he had not talked to the others at all. Iago may have been a competent bodyguard, but he clearly could not lead despite his forceful personality. Leadership required consulting with the group and co-operation; Iago was too much of a lone wolf to take on that kind of role. He woke Kotor up so that the kobold could take watch, and went to offer Iago some advice.

"Is it my turn already?" Iago asked, as Fistbeard came into view.

"No, I just wanted to talk." Fistbeard explained. "You haven't been very forthcoming about the details of our mission and I think you should let us know exactly what we're getting into."

"Yeah, well, I haven't exactly figured it out either. Zahrah kept the particulars of this mission to herself; my job was just to make sure no one got to her, and Kotor's just here to help the infiltration of the monastery. We weren't privileged to classified information."

"You mean she didn't tell you what this is all about?" Fistbeard scratched his beard. "Doesn't make a lot of sense to keep your team in the dark."

"Considering exactly who her retinue consisted of, that might not have been the worst idea." Iago flipped through a few pages before discarding the documents he was holding and moving on to a fresh batch. "Now let me look though these damned documents in peace. I'll debrief everyone once I figure out exactly what's going on; there's a lot of information to work though. Character profiles, structural blueprints, monastery holdings, force disposition, weather patterns, magical anomalies... you get the point."

"You know, it'd go along faster if we helped," Fistbeard offered. "I don't need too much sleep either."

"Infiltration and rescue is different from a bar fight." Iago dismissed. Fistbeard rolled his eyes and pulled out his coat of arms.

"See this?" He asked, holding it between Iago and his papers.

"Yes, I overheard the story," he acknowledged. "I assume the blacksmithing and brewing aspect of your heraldry does not apply, so can I assume you have some worthwhile military experience?"

"I'm a Deepwarden. I've spent twelve years beating up the enemies of dwarvenkind below ground, and three years seeking them out above, working with the Guardians of the Green. They gave me - a dwarf - this Amulet of Natural Attacks when they made me a Fist of the Forest in recognition of my contributions." Fistbeard answered. "And since you seem to value military experience, let me give you some advice; no successful military is a one man show. You've got to plan group operations with the group, so you can stop being such a stubborn prick and trust someone to help you."

Iago hesitated for a moment with a deeply conflicted look on his face, then handed Fistbeard a folder.

"Alright, you can start with the guard detail they've posted around the Underdark."

* * *

"Deities and demigods!"

Fistbeard looked up as Iago started frantically digging through the pile of documents at his feet. Every now and then, he would pick out a page, seemingly at random, from the stack and set it aside in a growing stack of paper. The rest of the group stared at him oddly, wondering if he had finally cracked under the pressure

"You find something interesting?" Fistbeard asked cautiously as he put aside the binder he was reading.

"Some of these pages detect as magical," Iago explained. "I thought I'd give them a look over, and there's an illusory aura over some of them."

"Ah, you mean like information was hidden to make it look like something else?" Fistbeard asked. "The Secret Page spell?"

"That would make sense; I was wondering why so much of the information seemed like dragon bile." Iago finished sorting out the enchanted pages and quickly stripped away the magic in them, revealing new text. He picked up the pages and skimmed through the contents.

"Alright, I think I know what's going on. I think it's time we had a talk."

* * *

The Fountain of Unlikely Chance was an old magical spring located in a cave under the Ethosas Monastery. Five hundred years ago, it was discovered by the Church of Hextor, who had built the monastery in the wild magic zone generated by the fountain as a defensive measure. After the discovery of the spring, they used the magical water to infuse their warriors with the power of good luck and expand their faith to several new lands. It dried up mysteriously fifty years after, and remained dormant despite all efforts to reawaken it. However, six months ago "unusually lucky" Hextorites were encountered by the kobold adventuring band and rock sensation Dragonforce during a tour of the Blessed Anarchy of Macharess, which cause the governing council of the Guild of Essential Inscriptions to suspect that the fountain had been reactivated.

Fistbeard listened as he navigated the old mining tunnels, taking them closer to Iago's desired point of entry. It may not have been his fight exactly, but he would be remiss if he simply ignored it. When your employer is kidnapped, honor and duty demand that you take action at the very least. Besides, the Church of Hextor had crossed paths with Moradin's Hammers in the Sea of Stone last year when they attempted to replace the governor of the resource rich region with a simulacrum, and Fistbeard figured they could stand a bit of retribution considering that the main conspirators eluded capture.

His musings were cut short as he came to the end of the tunnel. Ahead was blank space; the tunnel opened out into a vast chasm, as if a river had flowed through and cut its way through the rock over the ages. On the other side, just barely within the range of the party's darkvision, was another rock face with a tunnel.

"You led us here?" Iago asked. "Brilliant. How are we going to get across now?"

"I had in mind a rope bridge of some sort," Fistbeard explained.

"And how are you going to get a rope tied down on the other side?"

Everyone just stared at him, and Iago slowly realized why.

"Er... right. I can fly."

"You're flying _right now,_" Krag added helpfully.

* * *

Iago flew off to the other side with one end of Kotor's silk rope, and gave it two sharp tugs to signify that he had tied it securely. Fistbeard went across first, wrapping his ankles around the rope and pulling himself over one hand at a time. He arrived at almost the same time as Kotor, who had decided to run across the rope in the interests of saving time.

Iago was nowhere to be seen; the rope was tied to a stalagmite, but he seemed to have vanished after that. Fistbeard sniffed the air and detected Iago's scent; perhaps he had wandered off lower into the tunnel? Kotor poked his head around a bend in the tunnel further down, and drew back hastily as a blade of energy nearly decapitated him. Kotor gave a loud, shrill cry and ran back as a drow charged from behind the corner. The energy blade in his hand went straight into Kotor's chest, plunging out the other side and covering the tunnel floor in blood.

"What's going on?" Krag shouted from the other side. "That can't have been good."

"No!" Fistbeard replied, as he jumped down the tunnel and landed on top of Kotor's body, forcing the drow back with a powerful kick to his armored chest. "Hey ya' pansy elf, pick on someone larger than you for a change."

The drow quickly recovered and retaliated with a flurry of swipes, missing Fistbeard by inches each time.

"Surrender now," he sneered. "You're worth more to me alive than dead."

"Ha!" Fistbeard spat. "Worried you can't win this fight like a man?"

"You don't know who you're talking to, tunnel worm. Know that I am the Ego Slayer, master of psychic combat!" He proudly proclaimed.

"What are you going to do, whittle away at my self esteem?" Fistbeard ridiculed. "Perhaps you'll make some scathing witticisms, or incisive and belittling comments?"

"The slave markets don't care whether you have a tongue or not, troll spawn," the drow snarled, as he doubled in size, filling up the tunnel. His massive blade swept through the air and caught Fistbeard in the chest, pinning him against the wall. Fistbeard had the wind knocked out of him, but managed hold off the energy weapon with his hands and roll out of the way when the next strike came. He caught the drow behind the knee with a kick, and the dark elf fell backwards on the floor only to suffer a further attack by Fistbeard as he pushed off the ground with his arms, spun around in the air, and landed feet first on the Ego Slayer's stomach.

"What trickery is this?" The Ego Slayer yelled, seeing that Fistbeard was unharmed. He swept the dwarf off with the blade and got back on his feet, dodging another blow from Fistbeard as he did so.

"Even the largest elf is still short where it counts," Fistbeard taunted, displaying his beard proudly. "Behold the ultimate style of dwarven unarmed fighting, the art of beard based combat!"

Fistbeard stood his ground as the Ego Slayer thrust the blade at him. The weapon went straight into his chest, but deflected off of the beard with a sharp ringing sound. Fistbeard caught the hand holding the blade with his own and snapped his head upwards, letting his beard swing into the drow's groin. Fistbeard used the arm as leverage as his enemy sank to his knees and planted a jump kick in his face.

"Guess you should have stuck with writing bad poetry and cutting yourself," Fistbeard added, landing on the floor at the same time as his enemy. Right after he did so, a loud ringing sound filled his ears and his vision swam. Fistbeard clutched his head and managed to fight off the assault on his mind, though he felt more distant from the events unfolding before him after, almost as if he was watching someone else fight the drow. He pressed the attack, and the dwarf hit the prone drow several more times, but not before the dwarf was hit by another psychic attack, one that he did not shrug off as easily.

Fistbeard watched listlessly as the drow dusted himself off and readied his energy blade once again. The drow carefully poised his weapon over the dwarf's heart to land a killing blow. Fistbeard knew that the coup-de-grace would be fatal, but could not bring himself to interfere in the scene unfolding before him. It was as if the events unfolding before him were occurring to someone else, with Fistbeard an invisible observer unable to actually affect the battle. He could do little else but observe silently as the drow killed the dwarf.

A savage battle cry echoed through the tunnel and interrupted the execution. A half-orc barreled down the tunnel and landed multiple blows across the drow's back with his guisarme, scoring huge dents in his enemy's armor.

"What's this, another slave for the markets?" The drow jeered, landing an underhanded blow across Krag's chest. Incoherent with rage, Krag did not bother replying, choosing instead to step around the Ego Slayer and shield Fistbeard with his own body. The two exchanged blows for several rounds, with neither besting the other, until Krag decided to embrace a simpler strategy and wrapped his arms around the enemy in order to push his enemy into the chasm. Krag's struggled to move his enemy; the drow was twice as large as normal, but eight times heavier due to being enlarged. Krag ducked a blow aimed at his head, moved his arms around the drow's waist, and pushed off against the floor with his legs. The drow gave way before his display of raw strength and slid drow out of the tunnel and out into the chasm.

As he fell, the drow's eyes glistened maliciously as his hand shot out and grabbed onto Krag's arm. The weight of the drow threatened to pull him over the edge as well, but a pair of strong hands latched onto Krag's backpack holding him back. Fistbeard dug his feet into the rock floor of the tunnel as Krag tried to shake the dark elf off. The Ego Slayer clung to Krag like a leech, right up to the point where Krag's entire body become coated in a slippery substance. The drow lost his grip and dropped into the chasm and after a long silence, there was a distinct sound of impact on the floor far below.

Krag and Fistbeard turned around to see Kotor standing with a wand pointed in their direction.

"Looks like he slipped up this time," the kobold deadpanned.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Lolth's lady-bits, I can't believe he got me." Iago groaned as Kotor closed a nasty looking head wound with a healing spell. "I turned away after tying the rope and something hit me hard on the back of my skull immediately after."

"How many fingers?" Kotor asked, holding up three digits.

"Three. What happened to the drow?"

"Dead. Fell." Fistbeard answered sluggishly, as Krag bandaged his wounds.

"What's wrong with the dwarf?"

"Drow did something to him. Seems kinda distant." Krag replied, waving a hand in front of Fistbeard's face, barely eliciting a response.

"Hm. I think I've seen something like that. Personality damage." Iago drew a crystal clear ball the size of his fist out of his haversack and motioned for Krag to stand aside. "Fortunately, the elves have something that fixes mental damage."

He placed Fistbeard's hand over the orb and chanted the activation word several times. The magical item glowed and life returned to Fistbeard's eyes. He blinked twice and looked around groggily.

"Whiskey," he said. "And lots of it."

Krag handed him the small keg and Fistbeard lifted it to his mouth, drinking greedily. As he did so, his wounds stopped bleeding and healed over without any trace of damage on his skin.

"That's the stuff!" Fistbeard hiccuped, tossing the keg back to Krag. "Alright, how's everyone doing tonight? You all ready to start this evening's entertainment?"

"You take care of him," Iago ordered as he shoved the drunk dwarf on to the others. "I've got a corpse to desecrate."

* * *

"And the loot includes a few psionic items which we can't use, some unknown items which we can't use just yet, some miscellaneous items which will be of no use to anyone, and finally, some magical items which we can use." Iago spread the Ego Slayer's possessions out on the tunnel floor and started to hand out the useful ones to Krag and Kotor, excluding Fistbeard on the assumption that handing a drunk dwarf powerful magic items was a bad idea.

"For Krag, a Cloak of Resistance. There's some pretty powerful abjuration on it."

"Looks... a bit blood stained" Krag observed, taking the cloak Iago offered him.

"Don't be squeamish. Ammonia will work those right out. Next, there's actually some wine in here."

"Dibs!" Chimed Fistbeard, still drunk from the whiskey. Iago did not give it to him and moved on to the next item.

"Poison, and various sharp objects to apply it to."

"Shiny!" Kotor accepted with glee.

"And this Bag of Holding, which I'm claiming as mine." Iago concluded.

"Wait, what about the weapon?" Krag asked. "Didn't he have one?"

"If you'll remember, it was an energy blade," Fistbeard slurred. "I've seen that type before; they call it a 'soul-bound weapon'. It's not coming back."

"You didn't show his armor," Krag pointed out.

"Enchanted full plate. Bit heavy, but it's yours if you want it." Iago offered, opening his Bag of Holding and showing Krag the armor.

"No thanks," Fistbeard replied. "I want to feel free!"

"Uh, me too. I can't stand the heavy stuff. I'll stick with the cloak." Krag said as he flung it around his rhino hide armor. "Very soft cotton. High thread count.""

"If that's it, I think we should move on." Kotor recommended, as he started packing everything into his backpack. "Wouldn't want to stick around too much longer, we might have attracted some attention."

Kotor walked over to the rope and gave it a sharp tug. The opposite end came free and he quickly reeled it up and put it in his backpack as the others struggled for words.

"Weren't we just _using_ that?" Fistbeard finally managed to articulate. Kotor shrugged.

"Old kobold caving trick."

* * *

It might have been homesickness as a result of having lived away from the Underdark for so long, but Fistbeard was almost sad to leave. Despite the danger, it still felt comfortingly familiar, unlike the mountain he lived in now. Fistbeard could never get used to having a big ball of fire circle around above head, nor could he see the point of weather. A large cavern, such as the one they were currently in, was preferable any day.

Kotor interrupted Fistbeard's thoughts by calling for the group to stop. He quickly took out a magnifying class and scrutinized the floor in front of them.

"Footprints," he concluded. "Two sets, made by people about Iago's height judging by the stride. "Recent too, by the looks of it."

Fistbeard walked over and examined the prints as well.

"Not necessarily. In a cave like this, things can stay intact for years in this environment." Fistbeard corrected. "Still, new or old, they were probably made by the monks. We're on the right track."

"This means we'll have to worry about sentries," Kotor pointed out. "I volunteer to go ahead and scout out the area. No offense Fistbeard, but I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here."

* * *

Kotor clung close to the ground and out of sight, using his tail as a counterweight to maintain balance and made full use of his slight build as he worked his way forward, easily sliding between the stalagmite that littered the cave floor. The dwarf was a good tracker, but kobolds knew a thing or two about caving as well. He might not be as adept in the Underdark as Fistbeard, but spotting danger and staying well out of sight were kobold specialties.

The cave tunnel was starting to slope upwards, and there was the faintest smell of fresh air. Kotor tensed up and readied his assassin's dagger; being out of the caves was good news, but the exit would no doubt be guarded. Kotor paused and held his breath, straining his ears to listen for any sign of activity. Finding none, he carefully pressed his ear to the ground and listened for vibrations.

It was faint, very faint, but something was moving in his direction. It was heavy, and had several feet; either a monster or a patrol of monks. Likely the latter, judging from the tracks he had found earlier. Kotor held still as the sounds of humans started to echo in the cave. Extensive stealth training combined with enchanted gear meant that he was as good as invisible to any creature without extraordinary senses.

A torch lit up the far end of the tunnel and a procession of monks came into view, just as Kotor had predicted. He waited in the shadows as the monks passed by; the leader bore a torch in one hand and a club in the other, while the two men under him carried quarterstaves and watched their surroundings apprehensively. Kotor might not have been in the Underdark long, but one thing he had picked up was that light sources were a very bad idea, almost as bad as carrying a large, glowing sign that read "FOOD IS HERE" in bright red letters.

Kotor waited in the shadows as the monks slowly passed by, then quietly scaled the sides of the caves and clung to the ceiling, stalking him from above. These men were either expendable or felt close enough to their territory that they were comfortable making a target of themselves. In any case, it would be helpful to question them. Kotor let go of the ceiling and leapt for the center of the group, drawing a slender short sword as he descended.

It was good that humans did not have a tendency to look up when searching for threats.

* * *

The three prisoners were still there when Kotor brought the rest of the team over, struggling against the rope holding them in place.

"Well, Kotor, that was very productive," Fistbeard praised. He walked up to the prisoners and ungagged the leader. "Alright lad, you're probably intelligent to know why we're here. Let's get to the point, shall we? What's it going to take for you to spill the beans?"

"More than you've got, you clanless, beard shaving, cave gherkin." The leader spat. "You goodie two shoes Guild patsies wouldn't have the balls to torture us."

The two men next to him did not seem to share his conviction, but they did draw strength from his defiance. Fistbeard braced himself and tried again.

"You're not really in a position to be delivering such language," he reprimanded. "We've clearly got the upper hand here."

"I've got a _god_ on my side, troll spawn. What do you have, beer?"

"If I may?" Iago interrupted. "I have some experience with interrogation from when I served with a group of elvish warlocks. The Fey Pact taught me some... interesting things."

"Such as how to break out into a spontaneous song and dance routine whilst looking good in tights?" The leader sneered in an Iago-like manner.

Krag picked up a rock and smashed it next to the man's head.

"I am getting impatient, little man. Talk!"

"So crude, so unrefined," the leader continued on, unfazed. "By the time brute force breaks a man, it will be far too late - and that's assuming you won't get more than a series of lies intended to stop the torture. Only an orc would be simple minded enough to go for it, and even then you're dwarf won't allow it. I feel more threatened by your pet _kobold_."

Kotor bristled and walked up to the monk with his dagger drawn, only to have his progress arrested by Fistbeard's hand grabbing onto his shoulder. The monk looked Fistbeard up and down before continuing.

"I know his type; honorable, proud, and lawful as a Pelor-loving paladin. His people would never stoop so low, and he feels such revulsion at the grave cruelty and injustice of torture that his honor will not allow it to take place if he can help it. So go on, bring out your arguments, your bribes; I stand fast and assure you that nothing you can inflict on me will match what my brothers will do to me if I talk, and nothing you can offer me in this mortal realm can hope to compare to what Hextor will reward me with in death for my service and devotion to his will!"

Fistbeard nodded and clasped his hands together in a gesture of respect.

"You truly have a deep understanding of us dwarves, as well as your god. I can't stand torture, that is true, so I'm going to tell you what I'll do; If you don't tell me what I need to know, I'll leave you here with a note saying that you did."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Think they'll be ok?" Krag asked, as the group advanced upwards towards the surface.

"Probably. Given that there are very few traces of activity in this area of the Underdark, and factoring in the average crawling speed of a human, I'd say they stand a better chance of getting to safety than we do." Fistbeard commented nonchalantly.

"This wouldn't be a problem if you'd have let me set them on fire," Iago muttered from the rear. Fistbeard pretended not to hear him and continued on.

"Alright, so here's the plan: we obviously shouldn't take the monks at their word, but the general gist of what they said can probably be safely taken into account. Such as there being a gate in front of the cave entrance, with a wooden sentry tower."

"If I remember, the door is blocked from the outside. It might be difficult to pick." Kotor pointed out. "We can't break it either or people will notice."

Fistbeard stroked the braids on his beard thoughtfully.

"I'm reminded of an old dwarven saying: For every problem, there is an engineering solution."

Fistbeard knelt next to the heavy wooden doors inhaled deeply through his nose hoping to use his sense of smell to detect any guards, but the door was nearly airtight. He listened carefully for signs of movement on the outside and was rewarded with very faint sounds; it seemed as if a few men were there, stuck on a late night shift. He ran his hands along the sides of the door, tapping it lightly every now and then. He repeated the procedure on the granite the door was set in. The door was solid and the stonework well crafted, but there was a weakness.

"Ok, here's the plan. This door is barred from the outside, but the hinges are embedded in stone. That means if we can get through the rock and undo the hinges, we can bypass the locking mechanism."

"Let me guess, I'm going to melt through the damn rock?" Iago guessed. "Creating a hole large enough to squeeze a person through isn't going to be a quick procedure."

"Surely you jest, Iago," Kotor grinned, showing off all his teeth. "Have you forgotten that there is a kobold in your midst?"

"How could I?" Iago muttered, as he gave form to his eldrich energies. He focused the hellfire on the areas Fistbeard had indicated and melted his way though several inches of the granite, forming holes where the two hinges to the right door were located. He was somewhat skeptical of Kotor's ability to fit into tightly bored holes, but any activity that involved stuffing the reptile into a small space was probably worth at try, at the very least.

Behind him, Fistbeard was standing on Krag's shoulders and determinedly installing a hook and pulley system that attached to the cave roof and the top of the right door so as to allow them to slowly lower them onto the ground after they had been freed of their hinges. All in all, it seemed like a fairly competent display of engineering.

Iago made sure everyone else was fully preoccupied before touching the amulet around his neck and disappearing. He returned half a minute later, just before anyone else could notice his absence.

"All done!" Kotor chimed, as he wriggled his way back into the cave. "We should be good to go."

"Alright," Fistbeard said. "What we're going to do is hold onto the ropes and rapidly lower the door so that it opens, but does not slam against the door. You two will then leap out and gank whoever on the other side, hopefully preventing them from alerting the rest of the monastery."

"Can't wait," Iago responded. "Just give the word."

"Actually," Fistbeard clarified, "We'll need you to push the door from the top. Leverage and all."

Iago grumbled, but flew up to the ceiling and spend five minutes pushing the door until it showed signs of falling over, drawing a few pointed remarks from Krag in the process. As the door started to lean, Fistbeard and Krag tightened their grips on their ropes and rapidly lowered the door as Kotor adopted an assassin's stance and rushed through.

The two monks on watch were understandably surprised when their door became a drawbridge and a blur of scales came through stabbing them repeatedly in their softer parts while a flying magic-user started searing their flesh with jets of fire. The first monk took several severe burns to the face while the second was put to sleep immediately by a dagger coated with drow sleeping poison. Before the first monk could react, Kotor rushed up to him and delivered a powerful blow to the back of his head with the short sword, knocking him out as well.

There was still a watchtower to take care of, and Iago ran towards it to make sure that all potential witnesses would be eliminated. He flew directly into the tower, and touched the amulet around his neck right before he impacted against the wall, flying through the structure and surprising the lone watchman. He ran up the stairs in order to light the signal fire, but Iago beat him to the top and knocked the monk out of the tower with his eldritch glaive, sending him flying into the valley below.

"That's that," he reported to the rest of the group after he teleported back. "It's clean."

"Is it my imagination, or did you just go ethereal?" Fistbeard asked.

"Yeah, a Night Hag's heartstone lets you do that." Iago acknowledged casually.

"Why didn't you just use that to take us through?" Krag's face was scrunched up in what Iago could only assume was an expression of puzzlement.

"I could have, but you guys seemed so into the idea of dismantling that door that I didn't have the heart to burst your bubble..."

* * *

The team stood in the watchtower and observed the monastery beneath them.

"Alright, so are there any last minute concerns? The monastery layout isn't different from what the map indicates, is it?" Fistbeard inquired.

"It's basically the same; infiltrate, rescue Zahrah, and... well, I'm still not sure how we'll exfiltrate, but since teleporting out of the area will not be affected by the wild magic zone, we might be able to get Zahrah to teleport us. If that fails, I believe the best point of egress would be through the Underdark, where we can use the natural hazards in our favor."

"What does any of that even mean?" Krag complained. "You're using words I haven't heard of before."

"Come on, you've had formal martial training too. Didn't they teach you any nomenclature?"

"When orcs want to get out," Krag replied, "They say 'get out' or something like that."

"Eh, old habits," Iago shrugged, returning his attention to the map. "Anyways, if we conduct this quickly we should be able to retrieve Zahrah before they notice."

"Considering we can turn ethereal now, yes, I'd say we stand a very good chance," Kotor sniped, clearly irritated that Iago had made him go into a very small hole for no adequate reason.

"If it makes you feel better, I took a peek and made sure that we weren't going in over our heads when no one was looking."

"So, do we want to all sneak in as ethereally?" Fistbeard interrupted. "The monastery probably doesn't have many defenses against that form of infiltration, and we could zip around looking for Zahrah easily."

"Unfortunately not," Iago disagreed. "Aside from the hazards inherent in prolonged travel in the Ethereal Plane, there are permanent dimension locks in place around high security areas. If I'm quick, I can get us past the perimeter without a problem, but we're basically on foot from there on."

"Well, better than nothing I suppose," Fistbeard said. "Unless you have any other tricks you'd like to share with us?"

"I wish," Iago replied. "Alright everyone, gather 'round; it's time to hold hands and sing nursery rhymes."

* * *

The Ethereal Plane is a plane that overlaps with the Material Plane, and though it is possible to see into the Material, there is only sufficient visibility to see in a sixty foot radius. Even then, the world appears to be insubstantial, like watching shadows through a mist. Iago flew through the air and made a beeline directly for the monastery gates, with the rest of the party following behind him enjoying the fact that they too could fly while in the Ethereal Plane.

"Look at me, I'm a ghost!" Kotor said in a comically menacing voice, pretending to pounce on a monk patrolling near the main gate. "A spooky ghost!"

"You're not a ghost; ghosts are incorporeal, while we're ethereal. They're completely different states of being." Iago corrected with predictable anal retentiveness. "While there are some superficial resemblances, it is a common misconception that -"

"I'm a ghost!" Krag joined in, partially in order to spite Iago.

"A forlorn wandering spirit of despair!" Fistbeard embellished, waving his arms sideways.

"Keep it up and you will be," Iago muttered as he crossed into the main courtyard.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Vision into the Material Plane might have been poor, but trans-dimensional magical effects still showed up on the Ethereal Plane. Iago kept a constant watch out for the warded areas of the monastery as Fistbeard guided the party to an unprotected point closest to basement where Zahrah was likely being held. It turned out to be a small room on the first floor of the Ethosas monastery, in a hallway close to stairs leading down to the lower stories.

It was a janitorial closet. There was a dreadful racket as the four of them suddenly attempted to occupy the same small space as half a dozen mops, four dustpans, seven brooms, and three buckets half full of water. A deathly silence followed as the dust settled, while they waited to see if anyone had noticed the racket. Fortunately, the only sound that they could discern was that of water slowly trickling out from under the door.

The closet's door opened a crack and Kotor squeezed his way out into the hallway. A quick check left, right, and up revealed that the hallway was completely unoccupied, except for a few candles flickering on the wall. Kotor reached back into the closet and motioned for Fistbeard to join him in securing the area. Only when they were sure that no one was close enough to hear them did Iago and Krag come out.

"You know the water's going to give it away that something's up, right?" Iago pointed out as he emerged. "It has your footprints and everything."

"Then I guess we better get moving," Fistbeard responded. "It's time to break into the most high security area of this monastery, kick ass, and liberate a prisoner. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Iago replied. "Unless I end up in command of my old unit, or become leader of a horde of very angry barbarians. Then I might be more ready."

"I could help with the horde," Krag offered politely, "Though you might have to marry my sister."

* * *

The lower depths of the monastery were dark and virtually empty of activity. Kotor kept to the shadows and gritted his teeth as the footsteps of his companions echoed determinedly against the walls. He found himself hoping that the monks had set up dangerous traps as opposed to patrols based solely on the fact that they from made enough sound to wake up a hibernating umber hulk.

Annoyed, Kotor made an abrupt motion to stop when they reached the bottom of the stairs and gestured at the others to stay still while he went ahead again. It was quieter this time, though he found himself missing the company; kobolds were a weak and frail species who survived best when working with more powerful races, who were usually huge jerks. Luckily, his current gig involved relatively bearable characters. Zahrah maintained a polite, professional indifference; Fistbeard was as friendly towards kobolds as one could reasonably expect from a dwarf; Krag preferred to protect the weak rather than exploit them; Iago was not so much evil as generally unpleasant.

The corridors were cut into the rock and merged well with the existing cavern. It also made identifying traps easier; fitting traps into a the solid rock of a cave requires much more cutting than one installed into a building. As a result of the poor placement, the pressure plates, arrow traps, and rolling boulder of doom that the monks had installed were painfully obvious. The boulder, at least, would have worked better on the stairs.

At the end of the corridor, beyond a honey and fire ant trap, was a heavy steel door that led into the main cavern. Kotor paused in front of the door and considered his options. The holding cells were in a side chamber whose entrance was fifteen meters to the left of the door, while the Fountain was located down a passage in the rear and to the right. That meant that the guards were likely handing around in the main chamber, and would notice if he opened the door. A surprise attack with the entire group would be the most logical way of handling the situation.

Five minutes later, the door quickly swung open and a ferocious half-orc burst into the main cavern only to stop mid-charge at the sight of an empty cavern. There was a table with chairs in the middle, beds against the wall to the right, and a weapons rack next to that, but there were no people.

"It's empty," Krag said, lowering his guisarme in disappointment.

"Really?" Fistbeard asked, stepping in after him. Fistbeard sniffed the air curiously. "It might be the damn incense interfering with my senses, but... they're definitely not here."

"Don't suppose anyone has a theory as to why it's so quiet over there?" Iago asked casually, checking over his shoulder and expecting an ambush.

"Perhaps they went to the bathroom?" Krag guessed as he took another look at the room.

"Shh, I hear something," Kotor whispered, pressing his ear to the ground.

Fistbeard and Krag froze and kept quiet while Iago took himself off the ground and hovered near the ceiling about twenty feet above the rest of the group. Kotor listened for a moment then shot up and drew his weapons as the door to the prison cells swung open to reveal Zahrah being escorted out by two monks.

Krag leapt into action and charged the two guards, lashing out at their legs with his guisarme and tripping them both. As they fell onto the ground, he managed to crack each of them on the forehead with his pole arm, knocking their heads down against the stone floor.

"What are you doing!" Zahrah yelled hysterically as the guards were knocked unconscious.

"I'm rescuing you," Krag explained, moderately confused. "I'm with them."

Zahrah looked past Krag and was rendered speechless as she saw the others. Iago waved from the ceiling and broke the silence.

"Should we not be here?" He asked, confused as to why Zahrah had the facial expression of a goldfish out of water.

"You... you're supposed to go back to the Guild and report this!" Zahrah nearly shrieked. "I was planning on you going back to report this! It's protocol to report things like this!"

"Wait... you didn't want us here?" Fistbeard asked tepidly.

" I had the situation perfectly under control! Those guards were charmed! I even let myself get kidnapped so I could get in here!"

"You know, I was wondering how they could have captured and held a mage that easily," Krag commented, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

"Not now," Fistbeard groaned. "I think we've gotten ourselves in a right mess. I'm guessing we ruined a solo operation to infiltrate the monastery by pretending to be a helpless mage?"

"Yes, and do you have any idea how much you endangered this mission?" Zahrah continued, pointing her finger at Iago. "Iago, you were the one in charge! You should never have led them here!"

"Well excuse me for making a judgment call," Iago snapped defensively. "The idea of you taken prisoner was not a comforting one."

"Did you really think I was in danger from Giamoco and his profound, puppykicking brand of villainy?"

Zahrah would have continued to berate him further, but a series of sharp barks from Kotor interrupted the argument.

"Alright, we messed up but we're here and we got in without stirring up a ruckus." Kotor said. "Why don't you tell us what's going on and maybe we can help?"

Zahrah closed her mouth and breathed in deeply through her nose before speaking again, this time in a much calmer tone.

"Do you know what's down here?" She asked.

"Magical fountain of good luck," Fistbeard replied. "Saw it in the documents."

"That's right." Zahrah replied, motioning for them to follow her. She walked over to a door at the far right of the cave and cast a spell, forcing it open. The door opened to a wide set of stairs leading downwards to a short corridor with a set of plain stone doors at the end. "The Fountain of Unlikely Chance. It grants good fortune to those who imbibe its waters, and the Guild would like to know how it works so as to even the playing field. And sabotage this spring to tip it in their favor."

"And you figured that being abducted would allow you to get in easier than if you had been forced to infiltrate." Iago guessed.

"Do you know of many sane plans that involve going through the Underdark?" Zahrah asked rhetorically.

"Worked out fine for us," Iago pointed out.

Krag suddenly developed a cough which sounded a lot like the word "drow", causing Iago to flush red.

"Right," Zahrah replied sceptically. "Well, you're welcome to come with me and study the thing, though since I'm the only one trained for this I can't say how much help you'll be..."

"I think it'd be for the best if we stayed out here and stood guard," Fistbeard suggested.

"Fine. I'll be out soon; just have to take some readings, get samples, and Disjunction the thing. Just... stay out of the way and I'll teleport us all out when I'm done." Zahrah gave Iago one last glare before opening the doors and stepping into the fountain's chamber, leaving the group alone in the corridor.

"Vecna's balls," Iago cursed, kicking the door.

"Cheer up, it could have gone a lot worse," Fistbeard comforted. "At least we're all alive, and unharmed."

"And idiots. I'm leaving," Iago declared. He flew up the stairs and then right back down. There was a laugh of contempt from the top of the stairs, and the others eyes looked up to face it.

"You were fools to come!" Giamoco sneered, standing at the head of a small army of monks. "And you should have finished off my men when you had the chance! One of our men survived, and alerted the rest of us, and though we assumed the drow were at it again when we found more guards drugged with drow sleeping poison, the prisoners we found in the caves soon told us the truth of the matter."

"Ah, so it was a team effort," Iago noted casually, trying to assess the strength of the enemy. "And where's the bright young man who was our undoing?"

"T'was I!" A young monk with a severely burned robe declared proudly. Iago recognized him as the man he had knocked off the watchtower earlier. "Unfortunately for you, we can slow our fall if there's a surface within reach."

"That seems like a rather limited ability," Fistbeard commented, scratching his beard. It seemed that a fight was unavoidable, and while most of the monks may not be as strong as any one member of his team, there were at least a dozen from what he could see. "What do you do when there isn't something to hold onto?"

"Why don't you take your complaints and _stuff them up your beard_?" The monk lashed out in embarrassment.

"Now now, no need to be so rude to our guests," an authoritative voice chided. "Some congratulations are in order for having come this far; you are indeed formidable opponents."

An imposing figure stepped to the front of the group, covered from head to toe in armor and wielding a composite longbow.

"I am Torquemada, High Inquisitor of Hextor's Inquisition! Know now the magnitude of the foe you face! Surrender, and perhaps you shall be shown mercy; resist, and you will surely perish in unpleasant ways."

"I wasn't expecting Hextor's Inquisition," Fistbeard respond.

"Nobody expects Hextor's Inquisition," Torquemada sneered. "For our cunning is unmatched, our guile unsurpassed, and, as you will now find out, our wrath unparalleled!"

Kotor was polite enough to let him finish the speech before drawing out a wand and activating it. Torqumada's feet slid in different directions, which caused him to lose balance and fall down the stairs, clanging loudly with each step.

"Unparalleled," Kotor noted, as Torquemada landed face first in front of the group. "In fact, almost perpendicular."


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Protect the Inquisitor," Giamoco ordered, leaping down from the top of the stairs and landing in front of Torquemada. "Mighty Omega Nexus Knights, assemble!"

"Wasn't it "Masked" the first time?" Iago asked, as the monks took up their positions around Torquemada, each adopting an unique and equally stupid stance.

"We felt that 'Mighty' was a better reflection of our core abilities," Giamoco declared proudly.

"At least you didn't change the "O" to "Orgas-"

"You will die for your insolence!" Giamoco shrieked, as he rushed forward with another one of his wands out.

"Careful, you'll put an eye out with that." Iago raised his hand and sent a blast of raw magical energy at Giamoco, which surged through his enchantments and tore them apart. Giamoco suddenly shrunk to the size of a normal man and was forced to stop mid-charge for fear of tripping due to his new size.

Krag took the moment to act by charging again; he pushed forward and used his guisarme to bat Giamoco's legs apart apart before catching him behind the left knee and using the pole arm's leverage to trip him. Krag followed the trip with a plunge of the guisarme into Giamoco's chest, which the monk barely managed to block with his bracers. Before the rest of the monks could retaliate, Krag's uttered a command word and his guisarme became a blur of activity as he proceeded to lash out against every monk within range, flooring a four of them before they could react.

Iago quickly flew over Krag and pummeled the monks below him with hellfire, giving Kotor the opportunity to make invisible Fistbeard with a spell before then disappear from sight himself. Fistbeard took the hint and moved through the mob of monks in order to reach Torquemada. Fistbeard aimed a flying kick at the High Inquisitor as he propped himself up on his bow, hitting him straight in the groin. Torquemada's eyes widened as he realized that his enemies were invisible now and quickly raised the silver unholy symbol around his neck.

It was like a cold shower had passed over Fistbeard, and he felt Kotor's invisibility spell melting away. Giamoco saw Fistbeard behind the main lines and quickly responded.

"Drunken monkey style!" Giamoco swayed back and forth as if he was drunk and tumbled up to Fistbeard while screeching like a primate.

"Whatever this is, it better not involve flinging poo," Fistbeard snarked as he dodged a vicious jab at his ribs, only to have a stunning blow catch him in his forehead. Fistbeard stumbled backwards from the force of the attack, but managed to recover in time to dodge a flying kneecap from Giamoco.

"Moderately intoxicated half-orc crushes idiot against wall!" Krag joined in the fray by pinning Giamoco against a wall, allowing Fistbeard to confront the High Inquisitor. Fistbeard threw out a flurry of punches and kicks, hoping to keep the cleric preoccupied long enough for Zahrah to finish her task. Evidently the Inquisitor was no slouch at melee combat despite his preference for archery; Fistbeard found Torquemada parrying every one of his attacks with the longbow.

"As much as I'd love to exchange pleasantries," Torquemada commented as he forced Fistbeard to back off with a viscous swipe of the bow, "I really must protect my assets. If you'll excuse me?"

Torquemada raised his unholy symbol again, and Fistbeard attempted to interrupt the spell with a punch to the throat, but Torquemada's form turned into a vapor before Fistbeard could land the blow and drifted away into the fountain chamber. Fistbeard turned around in order to follow Torquemada, only to see the small mob of monks in his path, caught between him on one side and Iago's hellfire on the other.

"Nyrr Doch!" Fistbeard cried, as he launched himself into the fray.

* * *

The misty form of Torquemada filtered through the door and took substance on the other side. The fountain chamber was usually well lit with eternal torches, but now it was engulfed in darkness; Zahrah evidently had time to prepare for his arrival. It was a petty little trick, for no amount of darkness could impede the wrath of Hextor.

A brilliant light issued forth from his unholy symbol, and flooded the entire room, canceling out Zahrah's darkness. The room was empty except for the torches on the walls and the fountain in the back, an ordinary little thing about ten feet in diameter, located in a basin three feet high, which spouted water five feet into the air at a constant pace.

Without warning, pain shot through his skull as he felt a force assaulting his mind; no doubt Zahrah was trying to take him out with trickery. Torquemada shrugged off the enchantment with a roar of anger and bellowed out.

"Your cowardly ways will not save you this time, witch! The followers of Hextor are not feeble minded enough to fall for your magics."

"Again, you mean," Zahrah's voice corrected, coming from seemingly everywhere in the room.

The small chamber suddenly filled up with a fog which prevented Torquemada from seeing again, and was thick enough to prevent him from moving in the room. Zahrah hoped to limit his mobility, but she was a fool to think herself equal to him in a contest of magic. Torquemada placed his hand on the strip of leather tied on his left arm and cast a spell of Freedom of Movement, enabling to move in the fog with ease. He retreated to a corner of the room where the fog did not reach, wrapped his right hand around a dispelling cord and swept away the impeding fog with a burst of magic, revealing not only the room but Zahrah as well.

Zahrah made herself invisible again, but Torquemada was countered by casting True Seeing, allow himself to see through her illusions. She reacted by attempting to disrupt his spell, but her magic faltered as it attempted to overwhelm his own. Torquemada lifted his bow and let loose a volley of arrows that she only barely evaded. Zahrah attempted to stall by summoning a creature to defend her, but Torquemada calmly dispelled it and closed in on her in a burst of speed.

"Flaywind!" She yelled desperately, conjuring up a fierce blast of sand that scoured Torquemada's skin and almost knocked him on his back. Torquemada gritted his teeth and pushed forward until he was next to Zahrah before grabbing her arm and casting a spell of his own.

"Harm," he countered, channeling dark energies into her. Zahrah coughed blood and fell back against the wall nearly dead. Before he could subdue her, she cast one last spell and stripped the magical protection from his being.

"That's it? That's the best you could do?" He sneered, bringing his longbow down on her head with a brutal cracking sound. "Pathetic."

As he gloated over her, he felt something land on his back and sneak a blade under his right shoulder plate. He staggered into a wall from the force of the blow, as his assailant twisted the blade in an attempt to cripple his shoulder. Torquemada took hold of the lower end of his bow with his left hand and batted it across his back, knocking the attacker off.

"You!" Torquemada thundered, as he saw a kobold wielding a blade in each hand.

"Me," Kotor replied, tumbling under Torquemada's legs and stabbing viciously at his knees, drawing blood as he did so.

"You should have run while you still could, mongrel," Torquemada snarled as he turned around and grabbed the annoyance. Poisonous magic flowed through his hands into the kobold, who screamed in pain as his blood began to break down.

Torquemada casually tossed Kotor to the side before repairing his shoulder with a healing spell. He walked over to Kotor's spasmodic body and raised his longbow, intending on crushing the kobold's skull with it. Before he could bring down the weapon, the doors split open as a result of Krag bull rushing Giamoco into them. The fight quickly spilled into the room, interrupting Torquemada's coup de gras. Torquemada quickly sealed the room with a wall of stone across the exit so as to trap the intruders before letting off a flurry of arrows at them.

"What's the matter, afraid of getting your hands dirty?" Fistbeard taunted as he ducked an arrow and kept moving forward. "You fight like an elf."

"Thank you for the compliment," Torquemada returned coolly, as he planted an arrow into Fistbeard's chest. It was stopped by his beard, but the force of the arrow knocked him back several steps. Torquemada took the opportunity to bash Fistbeard in the face with the bow and slip it around his neck. The bowstring cut into Fistbeard's throat as Torquemada pressed his elbow onto the back of Fistbeard's neck choked the dwarf with his bow. Fistbeard balled his right hand into a fist and rammed his elbow into Torquemada's chest, only to have it bounce harmlessly off the armor.

Torquemada laughed as Fistbeard's struggles grew weaker, until Fistbeard brought his left foot down hard on Torquemada's and swept the cleric's ankle to the side with his heel. Torquemada slid to the side and his chin came down hard on Fistbeard's left shoulder. Fistbeard flicked his chin and his beard swing up over his shoulder, catching Torquemada in the face. The arrow embedded in the beard found it's way into Torquemada's eye, causing him to let go of the bow as the arrow entered headfirst.

Fistbeard twisted away and turned around to face the Inquisitor, catching him under the chin with an uppercut and knocking him down into the fountain. Torquemada reached up and grabbed onto the fountain's ledge in order to pull himself up; Fistbeard waited until Torquemada's head showed before bringing his trusty keg of whiskey down on it, shattering the container. As Torquemada fell, back into the water, Fistbeard reached out and snatched the unholy symbol of Hextor from his hand. He crushed the silver amulet in his hands and tossed into Torquemada's lap.

Torquemada swiftly brought a handful of the water he was in up to his mouth and drank it. His one good eye lit up as the fountains magic diffused through his entire being. His unholy symbol was destroyed, but he could still improvise. Torquemada reached for his quiver and grasped six of his arrows in his fist. He channeled his enhanced magic through the makeshift unholy symbol of Hextor as he thrust his fist at Fistbeard.

"Destruction!"


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Fell energies cackled around Fistbeard as he braced himself against the death spell, but it never came; the build up of dark magic around him rapidly fell off and melted into nothingness. Torquemada had a stunned look on his face as the spell failed, despite the luck that he had imbued.

Suddenly, the magic came back and exploded, disrupting all magic in the room. A foul smell filled the air all fighting ceased as the combatants lurched around trying to overcome the nausea. Torquemada rolled out of the basin and tried his magic again despite the sickening smell, targeting Fistbeard with a Blade Barrier, but the only result was a cloud of butterflies where he wanted the spell to be.

"Very well!" Torquemada declared, as he took hold of his bow. "If I cannot triumph by magic, I will will triumph by might!"

He picked himself up and charged into the cloud at a bewildered Fistbeard. Before he could land his blow a searing pain tore through the High Inquisitor's lungs. Torquemada screamed as his chest melted from the inside out.

"Perdition take my soul," Iago laughed from behind him, "But I do believe a pound of flesh is my due."

Torquemada sank to the ground dying, but he had enough air left for one spell, and a burst of blasphemous speech escaped his lips. The dark words found there way into Iago's heart, shaking him to his very soul. Every other conscious member of his party felt it too, and were equally incapacitated by the black magic.

The butterflies and horrid smell disappeared, only to be replaced by water. There was now liquid to full the chamber several inches deep, which rapidly became one foot as the fountain fueled the magical creation of water.

"Get them," Torquemada gasped, as he slumped against a wall. "For hate's sake, stab at them with your last breath!"

Giamoco let go of Krag and surveyed the situation. He tumbled up to Torquemada and cradled the Inquisitor in his arms.

"M.O.N.K., group up and head out!" He ordered to his men, who promptly formed into groups and teleported away.

"As for you," Giamoco growled at Iago and Fistbeard, "Don't you ever think that this will be over."

Giamoco teleported out with Torquemada, leaving the party in a rapidly filling up room.

"Well good riddance," Krag snarled at the space Giamoco had occupied, holding Kotor in one arm and Zahrah in another. "Iago, can you get us out?"

"Not unless you want to risk becoming fully integrated with a block of granite, no," Iago snapped as he rummaged through his Bag of Holding. "Hold Zahrah still and let me fix her."

"Hurry," Fistbeard urged, as the water reached his beard. "The water's getting higher and I don't swim well."

Iago bit back his retort for once and pulled out a healing wand, concentrating on activating the device. It glowed a soothing white, but the positive energy did not bring Zahrah back to consciousness.

"Try it again," Fistbeard advised.

"It doesn't stack with itself," Iago panicked. "This is designed for slowly healing someone, and she took a beating."

"How long?" Fistbeard asked, as he started searching through his haversack for anything that might keep him afloat.

"Half a minute more at the most," Iago replied, flying up out of the water.

Fistbeard pulled out another keg of ale and quickly emptied it into the water to see if the container would float. Krag handed Kotor to Iago and lifted Zahrah high above him, struggling to keep her alive for as long as possible. Just before the water reached Krag's chin, Zahrah showed signs of consciousness. Fistbeard splashed her with water and saw her eyes shoot open and dart around the room.

"What did you do?" She yelled, seeing the water.

"This isn't the time," Fistbeard shouted back, as he clung desperately to his impromptu flotation device. "The fountain's gone haywire! You can shut it down, right?"

"A scroll of Disjunction, yes," Zahrah answered, pulling out a scroll case. "Just get as far as possible from the fountain; I don't know how the magic will be affected."

Zahrah rode on Krag's shoulder as they made for a corner of the room. She broke the scroll case open and unfurled the scroll. The words glowed with life as she activated the magic stored in the paper, resulting in a rush of magic that flowed out of the scroll and formed an energy vortex around the fountain. Fistbeard's hair stood on end as the spell extended just up to their corner and started consumed all magic in the room.

Fistbeard could see the magic flow into the vortex, forming a shimmering multicolored disk of light surrounding a black void in the center. The black void grew and grew, rapidly engulfing the room as it approached him.

"Is that normal?" Fistbeard asked, paddling back against the wall. It might have been his imagination, but he could just barely make out things in the void - things he would rather not see.

"No! Look away and link hands," Zahrah ordered grabbing hold of Iago who then reached out to Fistbeard. Zahrah cast a darkness spell over the party, and followed it by opening a rift to the Plane of Shadow. The party was sucked into the opening just before the vortex consumed the room behind them.

Fistbeard was facing the vortex as he was pulled through to the Plane of Shaow, and saw strange beings pouring into the room. A tentacle shot out at him through the rift only to be cut off as the planar opening collapsed, spewing foul ichor as it fell into the Plane of Shadow. He did not envy whoever was going to try and reclaim the fountain.

* * *

The shadows in main room of the Green Casque flared and twisted together to form a gaping hole in reality. An unholy scream emanated from within the portal, and it sounded as if it were coming closer and closer to the room. The barkeeper ducked behind his recently repaired bar and reached around for the trusty mace he kept around for breaking up bar fights. There were five distinct thumps against the bar as he grasped the old weapon, and he shuddered to think of what might have ended up in his bar.

Still, he was trapped there and if he was going to die, he would at least go down fighting. He scrambled up and charged around the bar to confront the intruders. He was not sure what to expect, but seeing several former guests piled together in an undignified fashion was fairly low on that list.

"Beer, and lots of it," Fistbeard ordered, pounding on the bar with his fist.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Fistbeard leaned back and savored the cold beer in his mug. The quality of service at the tavern had improved; the barkeeper had evidently used the compensation he received from the Guild of Essential Inscriptions to invest in a better inventory. Fistbeard slowly drained the mug and smacked his lips in satisfaction as the cool liquid made its way down his bruised throat.

"Just what's needed after a harrowing escape, eh?" He joked, putting his mug on the table for a barmaid to refill. "I thought Iago's teleportation was bad, but that Shadow Walk..."

"It's usually not that turbulent," Zahrah muttered. "It was probably the wild magic."

"Clearly," Iago rolled his eyes. "What caused that, anyways? Everything was going fine until the idiot started casting spells in the fountain."

"I don't know," Zahrah confessed. "Casting spells in and around the water shouldn't have done anything to affect the stability of the wild magic."

Fistbeard nursed his beer thoughtfully as everyone paused to go through through their memories of the battle.

"Hey, didn't you get some of your whiskey in the water?" Krag asked. "I saw you crack a keg over his head."

Fistbeard smacked himself on the forehead with his free hand.

"You're right, I completely forgot about doing that to him. The whiskey must have tainted the fountain."

"Elhonna's nipples," Iago cursed, "You mean we almost got devoured by eldritch abominations because Fistbeard got a cleric drunk?"

"No, that can't have been it; alcohol doesn't cause magic to go haywire," Zahrah said. "I've been around inebriated magic users before, and it never gets that bad."

"But he made it with magic water, didn't he?" Kotor pointed out. "I remember, after we climbed the cliff, he gave it to Krag and said that he had access to a magical spring."

"Really?" Zahrah asked. Fistbeard did not like the look in her eyes. It was a hungry one, like one would see in predator who had just spotted his first meal of the week. "Fistbeard, where is this spring? Is it in the Underdark, or the mountains, or the forest? What's the name? What does it do? Has anyone else studied it? There might be something special about it that I'm sure we could benefit from if we were able to examine it."

Fistbeard took the contents of his mug and emptied them over her head.


End file.
